One Day in Oblivion
by Singkatsu
Summary: A drabble about a vampire who discovers an unconventional paradise. Who knew being forced to save Cyrodiil could have perks?


_A/N: This story is inspired by my playthrough of Oblivion, where my character went through the majority of the game as a vampire. Her story was a little unorthodox, as you can imagine. Heroic antics were interrupted by feeding binges and frantic stalking of anyone who I thought I could prey on. Needless to say, I ended up role-playing her in a particular way as the story went on, to sometimes hilarious results. It was such an amusing take that Kuneko insisted I document aspects of it for the masses. Their challenge was only for her first visit to Oblivion, but I think I'll probably expand into some of her other antics as the mood strikes. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this little romp through Griselda's world and, as always, leave me some of your thoughts. Happy reading!_

The smell of fresh blood accosted her nostrils as soon as Griselda took her first step into the hell of Oblivion. Hunger seized her fast and unrelentingly, her fangs popping out to dig into her bottom lip. She had spent months seeking shelter from the incinerating sun, and, by Asura, she had finally found it. This world, bathed as it was in red light, was a balm to her damned soul. In all of her years as a mortal Redguard, she'd never felt so intoxicated.

"Help! H-help me!" The human screams jolted her back to the present. Right, and there was the mistake that got her here. The little flesh bag was running, scared out of his wits, away from a daedra who was dripping in blood. With a sigh of resignation, Griselda placed herself between the two, sinking a silver dagger into its heart.

"Thank the Nine," he sobbed, latching onto her arm weakly. "I thought that I wasn't going to – all I could think about was my son, and -" He choked on the smoky air, too congested to continue speaking. Griselda rolled her eyes, patting his arm lightly to placate him. He grabbed onto her hand like a child, his skin pale against her bronze. She didn't need to hear anymore of this. "Bless you, sweet lady, bless you."

"There, there, it's all over. You can go on back to camp," her voice was gravely from disuse; sneaking around at night and eating people didn't present many opportunities for conversation. "The captain needs as many people as he can get," his lack of movement irked her. She didn't have time to babysit. "Go!" She barked.

Finally alone, the lone survivor scuffling his way back through the gate, Griselda could continue to take in the sights. A strung up corpse here, a few pools of lava there; all of it had been as she suspected it would be. Cloaked in the shadow that was her birthright, she dispatched of those she came across, annoyed at the disruptions. She could maybe live with a few less of those dinosaur creatures.

The gates were blocked, from where she could see, mechanisms connected to towers further down her path. The old woman almost wished she hadn't been tasked with closing the entrance to this wondrous place. She was nothing if not honorable though, and a deal with her jail-breaker was a deal to the death – if she needed to close the gate to get to his snivelling son, then so be it.

Reaching and scaling the tower had been more annoyance than it was worth. The Flame Atronachs had been a nasty surprise, leaving burns that wouldn't heal for _weeks_ , if her unintended hunger strike continued. She was certain they'd singed off the end of her ponytail as well; its tips were blacker than they'd been in decades. Through blackened halls, weeping walls, and daedric screams she roamed through the interior of the building. Sneaking up and stabbing the final daedric swordsman finally left her blissfully alone, with nothing but a bridge mechanism and hanging corpses surrounding her.

And that's when she saw it, a fountain that spurted the glorious ambrosia that sustained all life in Cyrodil: a blood fountain.

That was the glaze on top of the sweet roll. Non-painful sunlight, non-speaking humanoids, _and_ a free blood buffet? Griselda could really get behind this whole Oblivion thing.

Maybe she wouldn't close the gate after all. And who would fault her? She was only a kindly, innocent old woman after all.


End file.
